First Comes Love
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Yeah, Cuddy is knocked up.
1. Chapter 1

Cuddy entered Wilson's office and collapsed wordlessly onto this couch.

Wilson peered at her.

"Well, they _do_ say married couples begin to look alike. . ." he said.

She ignored him.

"I need to share this with someone or I might actually lose my mind," she said.

"That's what I'm here for," Wilson said, leaning back in his chair. "All your oncological and secret-unloading needs."

Cuddy glanced at the door to make sure it was firmly closed.

"The thing is," she whispered. "I might be a little. . . pregnant."

"No such thing as a little pregnant," Wilson countered.

"Okay, a _lot_ then."

"Whoa . . . How's House handling the news?"  
>"Hard to say," Cuddy admitted. "Since I haven't technically told him yet."<p>

Wilson narrowed his eyes.

"Unless I missed that day in human reproduction class, I'm pretty sure he had a starring role in this blessed production."

"But he's going to freak out," Cuddy said. "_I'm_ freaking out."

"How did this even happen? You two are doctors. Do I need to brush you up on the importance of birth control?"

"I'm 42. I've tried to get pregnant before. . . and failed. We didn't think we were in much danger. . ."

"Cuddy, you know better than that."

"To be honest, House and I engaged in all sorts of reckless behavior over our honeymoon."

Wilson shook his head, but had to chuckle.

"Your honeymoon, huh? There are young couples desperate to get pregnant. And a 42-year-old woman and her drug-addled 51-year-old husband get pregnant the week after they get married.

"Ain't life grand?" Cuddy said, ironically.

Wilson was quiet for a moment, contemplating her predicament.

"Well, have you two talked about having kids?"  
>"Are you kidding? We haven't even talked about whether or not we want a joint checking account. . ."<p>

"You have to tell him, Cuddy. Sooner rather than later, right? If my math is correct, you're about 6 weeks pregnant."

Cuddy nodded. "What do you think he's going to say?" she asked meekly.

"I'm pretty sure he wasn't expecting this."  
>"Neither of us were."<br>"Then I guess you'll have to deal with it. . .together."  
>"But do you think he'll want the baby?"<p>

"Do you?"  
>Cuddy looked at him, blinked.<p>

"I think maybe. . .I do."

#######

She kept trying to find the right moment to tell House, but she kept chickening out.

In the end, he made the decision for her.

"What's up with you?" he asked. "Are you sick?"  
>They were driving to the hospital together. Cuddy kept her eyes on the road, tried not to look alarmed.<p>

"Why do you ask?" she said.

"You haven't been eating well. And for the last few mornings, you've flushed the toilet twice. . .I can only assume that you've thrown up."

"There are other reasons I might flush twice," Cuddy said defensively. "I sometimes flush cottonballs and Q-tips when I'm done putting on my makeup."  
>"I already checked. You threw those things in the garbage."<br>It was like being married to a bloodhound.

"And you haven't had your customary glass of wine when you get home, either," House said.

Cuddy sighed. This wasn't necessarily how she wanted to tell him—she was thinking something more along the lines of after a nice dinner, maybe even after sex—but what could she do?

"Remember all that unprotected sex we had on our honeymoon?" she said.

"Is there any word less sexy than unprotected?" he said, musingly. "You take a perfectly great word like sex. . .and then ruin it by putting an ominous word like 'unprotected' in front of it. . ."  
>"House," she said, trying to focus him.<p>

"I'm listening," he said. "Why do ask? You pregnant?"  
>He chuckled. But almost the second he said it, Cuddy watched his facial expression change from mirthful to grave.<p>

"Holy crap," he said slowly. "You are pregnant."

"Surprise!" she said, ironically.

"How did this even . . ."

"You were there, House. You know."

"True. . ."  
>They had pulled into the PPTH parking garage. She cut the engine, studied his face.<p>

"Say something," she said.

"I'm processing," he said.

"You process everything in 10 second flat," she said.

"This isn't quite the same as figuring out what topping I want on my pizza."

"No," she said.

"Do you want it?" he said.

"So our baby is an it?" she said.

"There is no baby. There's an embryo, the size of a pencil eraser."  
>"You want to abort," she said, feeling her eyes begin to fill with tears.<p>

"I didn't say that," he said. "It's just that I'm . . .51."

He looked at her, noticed that she was crying.

"Oh Christ," he said.

"No, that's fine. Aborting is obviously the reasonable thing to do," she said, swallowing hard.

She opened the door and began briskly walking toward the elevator.

He flew open his door, limped after her quickly.

"Cuddy. . .I. . .let's just talk about this, okay?"

The elevator arrived. They both stepped in. She pressed the button for the lobby, then pressed it again.

"There's nothing left to discuss," she said.

"Of course there is. . ." he said. He was looking at her, but she didn't return his gaze. "You blindsided me. Just give me a chance to think it over, okay?"

"It's too late," she said, smoothing her skirt and putting her game face on as the elevator door opened. "You've already made yourself perfectly clear."

#######

He went to her office a few hours later.

She was sitting at her desk, pretending to read.

"You really want this baby, huh?" he said.

"I don't know what I want," she admitted, finally looking at him.

"We would make a pretty fucking awesome baby," he said.

She started to cry again, felt silly. Damn hormones.

"That's what I was thinking," she sniffed.

"And a kid brother for Rachel to boss around," House said.

"Or sister. . ."

He hobbled up to her desk.

"Or sister," he said softly. "So you wanna do this thing? You wanna bring a little unshaven baby with a bad attitude, a dirty onesie, and a limp into this world?"

"Kind of," she said.

She stood up and let him hug her.

"Let's have a baby then," he said.

########


	2. Chapter 2

**A tiny, but crucial chapter! **

The morning before her second ultrasound, Cuddy propped her head on the pillow and looked at House.

"Do you definitely want to know?" she said.

"I'm pretty sure we've firmly established that you're pregnant at this point," House said, smiling and kissing the tiny bump on her belly that had popped up, seemingly overnight, a few days ago.

"Not that," she said, rolling her eyes a bit. "I mean, if it's a boy or a girl?"

House gave her one of his condescending looks.

"You're joking, right?"

"I realize that it's more practical to know the gender, but there's something, I dunno, _magical_ about not knowing," Cuddy said dreamily.

"Yes, because willful ignorance is always the preferred option," House said.

"It's traditional not to know," Cuddy said.

"You know why it's traditional?" House said. "Because back then, _they had no way of knowing_. Today, they have these lovely things called sonograms and we get to find out how to decorate the room in advance—trucks and toy guns for him, dolls and chastity belts for her."

"You can find out if you want," she said. "But I reserve the right to be blissfully ignorant."

"It's going to be pretty damn obvious when I start painting the nursery blue," House said.

"Like you'd ever paint a room," Cuddy snorted.

#####

As it turned out, there was no mystery as to the baby's gender. One look at the ultrasound and it was immediately clear.

"That's my boy!" House said, proudly. "You don't need a magnifying glass to see that puppy!"

"It's definitely a boy," the technician agreed, smiling a bit. "And a healthy one at that."

"A chip off the old block, I'd say," House crowed.

"Yeah, already gives me gas and will soon be permanently latched onto my breast," Cuddy said.

#######

Once Cuddy began showing, House knew he had to tell his team. He blurted it out, in classic House fashion.

"In case you were wondering, I've finally gone three-for-three in the whole getting Cuddy barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen thing," he said.

"You've gotten Cuddy in the _kitchen_?" Thirteen cracked. "Impressive, boss."

House smirked at her.

"Really?" Chase said. "Cuddy is pregnant?"

"I hope so," House said. "Otherwise, she's just really moody and fat."

Foreman smiled.

"Congrats, House," he said. He shook House's hand. "You will be an unusual but excellent father."

House grinned.

"Taub, you're awfully quiet," he said.

"It's just hard to wrap my mind around the word 'paternity' being used in your name that isn't followed by the word 'suit.'"

"Speak for yourself, sperm boy," House said. "My spawn is of the legitimate variety."

Taub chuckled.

"I'm happy for you. And desperately, desperately afraid for your unborn child," he said.

"Well, you'll have lots of opportunities to improve his life," House said. "Because in five months, you're all officially on 24-hour call as babysitters."

"It's like all my years in medicine have been preparing me for this very moment," Thirteen gushed.

"Just to be on the safe side, you might want to pick up one of those Baby Sven things for your homes," House said.

"BabyBjorn," Taub corrected.

"Same dif."

######

That night, House and Cuddy began talking about possible baby names.

They were sitting on the couch. Cuddy had her legs on House's lap and he was rubbing her feet. (He had been particularly attentive since she announced her pregnancy—holding car doors open; carrying groceries—and she was milking it for all it was worth.)

Rachel was on the floor, coloring. (For her part, Rachel had reacted with typical equanimity to the news of her impending baby brother: "Will he get to play with all my toys?" she asked. "Only if you want him to," Cuddy said. Rachel had pondered this news thoughtfully, "I probably will want him to," she said.)

"I assume Greg Jr. is totally off the table?" House was saying.

"Sorry, no Juniors in the Jewish faith," Cuddy said. "Besides, I'm not sure I can handle two of you."

"Okay, how bout something badass, like Thor?"

Cuddy gave him a look.

"Wolf?"

"I've always liked the named Richard," Cuddy mused.

"_Dick_ is a common nickname for Richard," House said. "Next!"

"Elijah?"

"Sure, if you want our son beaten for his lunch money and shoved into lockers all the time," House said.

"I like it," Cuddy sniffed.

"It screams dork. Besides, Elijah House sounds like a name of a convalescence center for recovering drug addicts."

Cuddy chuckled.

"Okay, how bout Montgomery?"

"Sounds like snooty British aristocracy. You've obviously been watching way too much of that Downtown Arlene show," House said.

"Downton Abbey," she corrected. "And I was thinking more along the lines of Montgomery Clift, my favorite actor."

"And things turned out _so_ well for him," House said, referencing Clift's miserable, brief life. "Let's ask the rug rat."

He turned to Rachel.

"What do you think we should name our bundle of joy, shorty?"

"Elmo!" Rachel said gleefully.

"Thanks for playing," House said.

"I've got it," Cuddy said. "Let's name him after one of your heroes. Charles—Charlie for short."

"That whole 'one man, three Angels' set up _was_ pretty sweet," House said.

"Not Charlie from Charlie's Angels, House," Cuddy said, slapping him. "Charles Darwin."

House looked at her. Nodded slowly.

"Charlie," he said. "I like it."


	3. Chapter 3

House hobbled up to the counter at the local mini-mart.

He was unshaven and had an overcoat on over his pajamas.

He handed the clerk a tub of rum raisin ice cream and a jar of olives.

"I know this is a long shot, but by any chance do you have curried almonds?" House asked.

"I've never even heard of curried almonds," the clerk said.

"Apparently, it's a thing," House said.

The clerk took in House's state, his unusual bounty, and chuckled.

"Wife pregnant?" he asked.

"How did you guess?" House sighed.

#####

When he got home, Cuddy had just gotten out of the shower. She was wearing nothing but a robe.

House reached into his bag.

"Rum raisin ice cream! Green olives _with_ pimentos and. . . they had no curried almonds, so I got you salted peanuts instead."

Cuddy looked at him.

"Ugh," she said. "I couldn't eat a bite of that."

"_Really_?" House said. "Because an hour ago it was such an emergency I had abandon a particularly epic game of Grand Theft Auto to buy it for you."

"Sorry," Cuddy said, wrinkling her nose. "An hour ago, it was an emergency."

"Huh," House said.

He plopped onto the bed, grabbed the plastic spoon from the bag, and began eating the ice cream himself.

Cuddy was looking at herself in the mirror.

"I look like a beached whale," she said disapprovingly, rubbing her belly.

"You look gorgeous," House said.

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not," he said. He put down the ice cream and stood behind her. Put his arms around her neck. Now they were both looking in the mirror.

He slowly undid the tie on her robe.

"Look at you," he whispered in her ear. "You're such a fucking turn-on to me."

He began rubbing her naked breasts, her protruded belly, then his hand moved between her legs.

She moaned a bit, closed her eyes, leaned into him.

"I think you can feel how much of a turn on you are," he said.

"Yeah," she whispered.

She turned to face him, kissed him on the mouth.

"I hope Charlie doesn't bruise easily," he said, as they fell back on the bed.

######

House wasn't sleeping well. Cuddy knew this because she wasn't sleeping well either. She would wake up—turns out, it was hard to sleep comfortably when you had a basketball where your stomach used to be—and he'd be gone. He'd return an hour or so later, quietly climb back into bed, thinking she hadn't noticed.

She didn't question these disappearances. She assumed he was in the living room, listening to music on his headphones or watching some horrible TV show with the sound off. She always knew that no matter how close she and House were, there were certain things he needed to work out on his own.

So she gave him his space.

But on one particular night, she was wide awake and ambled into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

Much to her surprise, House was nowhere to be found.

"House?" she said quietly.

She poked her head into her office, then into Rachel's room.

Nothing.

Finally, she opened the front door. There was a big grease stain where his motorcycle had been parked.

"Ahhh," she said outloud.

She finished making the tea, put on a sweater, and sat on the front porch, waiting for him.

About 10 minutes later, he zoomed up, cut the engine.

When he saw her, he rushed toward her.

"What are you doing out here?" he said. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"We're both fine," Cuddy said. "I just couldn't sleep."

House sat down next her.

"You and me both," he said.

"Where do you go at this hour?" she asked. It was 4 am.

"Nowhere," he said. "I just ride—to clear my head. To think."

"What do you think about?"

"Stuff," he said.

"There's a lot of stuff up in that head of yours, huh?" she said, affectionately.

"Yeah," he said.

They were both quiet.

"House, you're going to be a great father."

He looked at her.

"I think we both know that 'great' is an exaggeration. The most we can both shoot for is 'not actively destructive.' Maybe on really good days 'surprising adequate.'"

"You're _already_ a great dad—to Rachel."

"But I'm not her dad," House countered.

"You're the closest thing to a dad she's ever had—or ever will have. And she adores you."

"Well, the Cuddy women have a blind spot for me," House said.

"True."

Something about the dark night, the stillness had House in a confessional mood.

"You know the worst thing about my father wasn't that he beat the crap out of me," he said softly. "It was that he never approved of me. Nothing I could ever do was good enough for him."

Cuddy looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she said nothing.

"And to say he wasn't warm would be an understatement. A firm handshake was a sloppy show of affection on his part."

Cuddy sighed.

"Ask me how many times he told me he loved me?" House said.

"How many times?"

"Ummm, hold on a second, let me count. . .zero. Zero times."

"But you're not like that," Cuddy said, understanding.

"Aren't I?"

"No. House, you may not be warm, but you are loving. In many ways, you're the most loving man that I know."

"Please," he said.

"I mean it," she said. "I've never felt so loved in my life. I'm pretty sure _Wilson_ has never felt so loved in his life."

"Wilson feels harangued, bullied, and manipulated."

"Which is your way of showing love," Cuddy said, smiling at him.

House smiled back, sadly. Then he gazed onto the street, got a somewhat faraway look in his eyes.

"What if Charlie doesn't . . . like me?" he said.

She put her head on his shoulder.

"What if he doesn't like me?" she said.

#######

A few weeks later, Cuddy got up early, and shoved some gym clothes into a duffel bag.

House woke up, squinted at her.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Go back to sleep. I'm just going to the gym."

He popped up quickly.

"Oh no you're not," he said.

"Yeah, I am."

"You're 7 months pregnant!"

"And the doctor said I could exercise right up until Charlie is born."

"Sure, exercise. . .take a walk, go to the park. But not the gym. It's a seething cesspool of bacteria."

"So is the hospital."

"And if I had my druthers, you wouldn't go there either."

"What? You want me on bed rest for the duration of my pregnancy?"

"What a great idea!"

She walked up to him, gave him a somewhat tolerant kiss on the lips.

"Quit worrying. I love you. I'm leaving now."

She headed toward the door.

"Wipe off all the equipment," he said after her. "Use disinfectant."

"Right," she said.

"And don't run on the treadmill. You might fall off," he said.

"Oh yes. Because along with my pregnancy I've also acquired vertigo," she said, leaving the bedroom.

"And don't even think about a sauna!" he shouted.

#######

"He's driving me crazy," Cuddy said.

She and Wilson were having lunch in the cafeteria.

Wilson was having a turkey sandwich. Cuddy was having a steak and a baked potato and a large piece of cherry pie.

"Don't judge," she said.

"I'm not!" he protested.

"He's completely smothering me," she continued, back on the subject of House. "Everytime I sneeze he wants to take me to the emergency room. He won't let me go anywhere on my own. He's treating me like I'm some sort of delicate _thing _that might spontaneously destruct."

Wilson smiled.

"It's cute. . . he's worried about you."

"Oh yeah, it's adorable."

"Look, this is all new territory for House. He just wants to do it right."

"It's new for me, too, you know," Cuddy said. "I mean, I know she looks like me—and House for that matter—but Rachel is not my biological daughter."

"I know. . .But you're more emotionally _evolved_ than House is. You can handle this sort of thing. He can't. His default reaction is. . .overreaction."

"True," she said.

She took a carrot stick off Wilson's plate and began eating it.

He eyed her, but said nothing.

"Well, the good news is, it'll all be over in less than a month," Wilson said. Then he leaned toward Cuddy's belly.

"Isn't that right, Charlie? Isn't that right, little man?"

"Oh yeah. . .because once Charlie's born I'm sure House will _completely_ relax," Cuddy snorted.

######

That night, Cuddy was working late in her office when House wandered by.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Drinking hard liquor and smoking," she said. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Working yourself into the ground."

"I'm swamped," she said.

"You're 9 months pregnant."

"I'm also the Dean of Medicine of a mid-sized hospital."

"Who is about to go on an 8 week maternity leave and should be beginning the process of delegating to her underlings."

"What underlings? I have department heads—some who make my life easier and some who . . .don't."

She looked at him.

"I'm not going to argue with you," he said. "It's 7:30. I'm taking you home right now."

"You don't get to boss me around," she said.

"I'm not bossing you around. I'm taking care of you. I thought that's what husbands were supposed to do."

"House?"

"You haven't let me do anything for you since you got pregnant. It's like you're so hellbent on being miss independent, you haven't bothered to lean on me. I want to be leaned on. . ."

"House!"

"I want you to know that I'm going to take care of you. Of you and Charlie _and_ Rachel. I just want you to feel like you can count on me. I. . ."

"_House!"_

He looked at her.

"What?"

"I think my water just broke."


	4. Chapter 4

House couldn't feel his legs.

He knew he was supposed to be doing something—there had been plans, explicit instructions. But for the first time in his life, his mind had gone completely blank.

Instead, he began randomly grabbing things from Cuddy's office—her coat, her purse. He momentarily grabbed a potted plant, stared at it, and then put it back down.

"What am I _supposed to do_?" he said, frantically.

He looked up at Cuddy.

She was on her phone.

"Right," she was saying calmly. "We'll meet you up there. Okay, bye-bye."

House kind of thrust the coat in her direction, to show that he had at least done something.

"House, I need you to focus," Cuddy said. "First, you're going to get a nurse to get me a wheelchair and you're going to wheel me up to obstetrics."

House nodded dumbly.

"Then you're going to call Julia and tell her to pick up Rachel and that overnight bag I packed."

House stared at her, blinked.

"Then you're going to call my mother."

House nodded, his eyes widening, but said nothing.

"Repeat it, House."

"I'm going to call Rachel and tell her to pick up your mother and Julia's overnight bag," he said.

"Close enough," Cuddy said, with a sigh.

#####

An hour later, House made his way to the DDx room, where his team was waiting for him.

"I thought you all might like to know that Cuddy is in labor," he announced.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Taub said.

"What? You expect me to be one of those new age dads who brings a camcorder into the delivery room and cries over the miracle of childbirth?" House said.

"Well, at the very least I thought you'd be burning a hole in the rug in the waiting room," Taub said.

"Waiting rooms are for men who don't _work at the hospital where their wife is giving birth_," House said. "Catch me up on our patient."

The team exchanged looks, shrugged.

"Test came back negative for sarcoidosis," Chase said. "But there is increased inflammation in the lymph nodes."

"Hold that thought," House said.

He pulled out his cell phone, dialed.

From the delivery room, Dr. Gayle Newman, OB-GYN, received a page.

She looked at her phone.

"It's House," she said to Cuddy.

Cuddy smiled.

"Of course," she said.

"House, she's fine. Her contractions are five minutes apart now and everything is right on schedule."

"Okay, good," House said. "Keep me posted."

He turned back to his team.

"Theories?"

The team began batting around ideas about their patient's condition. Thirteen thought it was something viral, Foreman thought it was a cancer syndrome of some sort, Taub thought it was environmental.

"I hope Cuddy's labor is going better than this differential," House said. "Speaking of which. . . ."

He paged Gayle again.

His team watched him, amused.

"Nothing new to report since you last called 5 minutes ago," Gayle said.

"Keep me posted," House said again.

"Just a thought, pal," said Thirteen, when he got off the phone. "But maybe you want to be down there?"

"You do seem a little distracted," Foreman said.

"I'm fine," House said defensively. "I'm fully committed to this diagnosis. Have we considered sarcoidosis?"

"We told you that the test ruled it out," Chase said. "Remember?"

"Oh yeah. . .right," House said.

He began tapping a pencil against the table with a faraway look in his eyes.

"What's the normal duration of labor, for a first-time mother of a . . . certain age?" he asked.

Back in the delivery room, Gayle's pager went off again.

She looked down.

"House," she and Cuddy said in unison.

"Gimme," Cuddy said, gesturing with her hand.

Gayle handed her the phone.

"House, get your ass down here," Cuddy said.

"That's probably a good idea," House agreed.

#####

Charlie House was being stubborn.

Cuddy had been in labor for 14 hours and the little guy was refusing to come out.

Gayle said that if they went through the night without delivery, they might have to consider a C-section.

Cuddy was on the bed, strands of sweaty hair stuck to her forehead, out of breath, exhausted.

"C'mon baby, just push," House said her.

"Fuck you!" Cuddy screamed at him. "I've been pushing for 12 hours! You push!"

House gave Gayle an incredulous look.

"What's she yelling at me about?" he said.

"Don't worry," Gayle whispered, patting him on the arm. "It's completely normal. I'll be back in 15 minutes."

"I lied," Cuddy said to House when she left. "I don't want a natural childbirth. I want hard drugs. Now."

"Just say the word and I will steal Wilson's prescription pad," House said.

"Don't make me laugh," she said. "And if you say, 'I'm at your cervix' one more time, there will be a birth _and_ a death in this room tonight."

"My bad," House said. He took Cuddy's hand. "C'mon girl. Just breath. Just like we, uh, never practiced together."

Cuddy breathed, gritted her teeth, gave another push.

Nothing.

"I know the problem," House said, when Gayle came back in the room. "It's this damn music."

Cuddy's iPod was hooked into a speakerset. The music was meant to help her relax. Right now Bach's Brandenburg Concerto was playing.

"May I?" House said.

He pulled out his own iPod, scrolled through the playlists.

Suddenly, a familiar rift and a duo of female voices came on the speakers.

_Oooh baby, baby. _

_Oooh baby baby. _

_Ah, push it. _

_Push it good._

_Push it real good._

"I told you not to make me laugh," Cuddy said, laughing.

"Let both Salt _n_ Pepa be your guide," House said.

Cuddy closed her eyes, pushed again.

"I see his head!" Gayle said. "I see his head! Push, Lisa! Push!"

House got down low, banged on the bed, like a coach encouraging a runner to slide into third base.

"You got this Cuddy. You got this! _Puuuuush_!"

Cuddy let out a primal yell, pushed like she'd never pushed before, and the sound of a crying baby filled the room.

"Congratulations, mom and dad, you have a healthy baby son," Gayle said.

Cuddy collapsed back on the pillow, exhausted, looking spent but happy.

"Care to, Dr. House?" Gayle said, handing him the umbilical cord.

"It would be my pleasure," House said, cutting the cord.

He held the squirming baby in his hands.

"Cuddy, our baby is covered in goo," he said. "And he's got. . .three legs! Oh no. . . wait, that's just. . ."

"House," Cuddy warned.

The nurses weighed baby Charlie—a robust 7 pounds, 11 ounces—swaddled him a blue blanket, and handed him to Cuddy.

"He's beautiful," she sighed. It was true. Some babies came out of the womb smooshed and red and wrinkly. Charlie, however, was pink and smooth with enormous cobalt-blue eyes that were already wide open.

"Yeah," House said.

He looked at his wife—the love of his life—and his son, and felt his own eyes grow moist.

"Screw it," House said. "I'm that guy."

He took out his cell phone, took a picture.

"You did it," he said to Cuddy, kissing her, kissing baby Charlie.

"_We_ did it," she said.

Charles Winston House had arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

"Rachel, do you want to meet your baby brother?"

Rachel Cuddy awoke to the sound of her aunt's voice.

She was in a chair. Somebody had placed a blanket on her—wooly and rough, not like the soft ones at home.

It took her a second to piece together where she was: The hospital where Mama and House worked.

She hadn't wanted to fall asleep. This was an exciting day. Her most exciting day since Mama took her to the American Girl outlet and told her she could have any doll in the _whole_ entire store. (She had chosen a doll called Bitty Baby. It had a white bonnet and pink knickers. "What are you going to call it?" House asked, squinting at the doll when they got home. "Bitty Baby," Rachel said, showing House the label on the doll. "You don't have to use their name, you know," House said. "You can give it any name you want, Rach. Fight the power!" He raised his fist. "I'll call it . . . Dolly!" Rachel said. House had shrugged: "Baby steps," he said.)

Aunt Julia took her hand and led her toward the room. The hospital was strange and quiet, there were no familiar faces. (Usually, the nurses greeted her by name; gave her lollypops and stickers.)

They stepped into the room. There was Mama on the bed—looking funny in a blue nightgown Rachel had never seen before with no makeup and messy hair. She looked sick almost, but not really sick—because she was smiling and her eyes were moist and twinkly. House was sitting in a chair next to the bed and he looked different, too, and she realized it was because _he_ was smiling. And was Nana Cuddy _hugging him_?

Then Rachel saw the blanket-covered bundle that mama was clutching to her chest.

"C'mere, baby girl. Meet Charlie," mama said.

"One second," House said. He plopped a bit of a clear gel—like soap, but it dried faster—into Rachel's hand. "Better safe than sorry," he said, with a shrug.

Rachel approached the bed. There was a tiny, fuzzy head poking out of the blanket, not much bigger than Dolly. The baby had a tiny nose and giant eyes that were closed, but fluttering a bit, and little bright red lips shaped like a heart.

"Say hi to your baby brother," Mama said.

"Hello Charlie, I'm Rachel," she whispered. And everyone laughed.

"Do you want to give him a kiss?"

Rachel looked around the room nervously. She was met with encouraging looks. So she leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on the baby's cheek.

There was a chorus of "Awwws"—from everyone but House, of course.

Then Dr. Gayle —Rachel knew her; she'd been over to the house—said, "Okay, it's time for both baby and mama to get some rest. It's been a loooong day."

Everyone gave Mama a kiss goodnight, including House ("I love you so much," she heard him whisper softly into her ear) and then Nana left and Aunt Julia took Rachel's hand and brought her into the hallway. House followed.

"Are you excited about your new baby brother?" Aunt Julia said, clapping her hands together.

"Yes!" Rachel said, although to be honest, she was more dazed than excited right now.

Aunt Julia turned to House. "Alright, proud papa, we'll see you in the morning."

She started to lead Rachel toward the elevator.

"Where do you think you're going?" House said.

"Home," Aunt Julia said.

"I know _you're _going home, but the employee garage is that way." He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction.

"Then you better get going that way," Aunt Julia said testily.

"I will," House said. "As soon as you give me Rachel."

"House, she's tired. She just wants to go to sleep in a comfortable place."

"Exactly. All the more reason why she needs to come home _with me_."

"Really, House?" Aunt Julia said, giving him a dirty look. "We're really going to have this discussion in front of the C-H-I-L-D?"

"Hey, that spells child!" Rachel said.

House stifled a laugh.

"She might fall asleep in the car," Julia said. "And then how are you going to carry her inside? I mean, I don't want to seem insensitive but. . ."

"You? Insensitive? _Never!_" House said, in a tone that suggested the opposite. "I'm more than capable of carrying Rachel into the house. In fact, I've been known carry her mom, too." He made a face. "Wow, Cuddy really doesn't talk much about our sex life, does she?"

Aunt Julia looked like she wanted to strangle him.

"Hey Rach," House said, leaning down. "What would you rather do? Go sleep at Aunt Julia's house, in a strange bed that you almost never sleep in, with weird toys and your weird nieces—sorry—and no Honey Nut Cheerios in the morning? Or do you want to come home with me, so you can sleep in your own bed, with Dolly and Mr. Doodle Pants and be in your own room with your toys and all your own stuff? Totally your call."

"My bed with you and my stuff!" Rachel said.

House grinned.

"Good call, kid," he said.

He took Rachel's hand and led her to the employee garage.

######

The next morning, House and Wilson stood side by side, staring through the glass at the rows of babies lined up in the nursery. They both had one of the cigars that House had been handing out all morning tucked into their shirt pockets.

"Don Draper would totally be smoking these right now," House said, frowning a bit.

"So which one is junior?" Wilson said, peering in.

"Guess," House said.

All the babies were cute, of course, in their own way, but there was one baby that stood out—a perfectly formed newborn with an orange-and-yellow-striped knit cap that, with his rosy cheeks, creamy white skin, and fat little legs, already looked like he was 2 months old.

"That one?" Wilson said, pointing.

"That's my guy!" House said, proudly.

Wilson starred at the infant.

"Well done, House. He really is an exceptionally beautiful child," he said.

"You'd say that if he looked like Verne Troyer," House said.

"True," Wilson conceded. "But we both have eyes. That is one gorgeous kid."

"Well I'm biologically programmed to think so," House said. Then he got a slightly dreamy look on his face. "But yeah . . .takes after his mother."

He turned to face Wilson, clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"His full name is Charles _Winston_ House," he said.

Wilson looked back, not getting it.

"Winston—like Wilson, only cooler. . . We named him after you, moron."

Wilson was flabbergasted.

"You. . . did? Does Cuddy know?"

"Of course. We figured there's no way our relationship would've survived, much less flourished, without you and your endless capacity to listen to gossip. And no relationship equals no baby. So this is our way of saying thanks for being such a yenta."

"I'm . . . I'm moved. I'm . . . honored. I'm. . . speechless."

"Moved and honored. Those are words. You are officially not speechless."

Wilson smiled. He really was just pleased as punch.

"There's one more thing," House said, tapping on the glass, trying to get Charlie's attention. Several of the other babies woke up, began crying. Charlie remained asleep.

"If something were to ever happen to me. Like, hypothetically, my liver were to explode ten years from now—I want you to promise that you'll stay in Charlie's life. Look after him."

"Unless your enormous ego also envisions Cuddy dying of a broken heart right after said liver failure, he won't need me to take care of him," Wilson said.

"I don't mean like that," House said. "I don't mean adopt him or anything. Don't get too excited. I just mean, look in on him. Make sure he's okay, that he's not being unduly influenced by the lesser Cuddy women."

"House, I do believe you're asking me to be Charlie's godfather."

"Good god man! I don't want you to put a horse's head in his bed!" House said.

Wilson rolled his eyes, chuckled.

"Ha ha, very funny," he said.

"The problem with godfather is it contains the word god," House said. "Which we both know is a concept I'm not down with. I'm just asking you to be the. . .back-up father."

"The back-up father?"

"Yeah."

Wilson looked at Charlie, who seemed to be smiling—or maybe it was just gas—in his sleep.

"House, I would be proud to be Charlie's back-up father," he said.

House nodded, looked down at the floor.

"Thanks," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: So I have good news and bad news: The bad news, yeah, this the last chapter of my baby fic, at least as part of the Wedding, Honeymoon, Baby trilogy. But the good news is I'm more than happy to write a new story that picks up from here, I just need your help. To be honest, I only wrote this baby fic to satisfy all my readers who wanted one. It's not something that appeals to me quite as much personally (I like all the drama/tension/sexiness of the House and Cuddy relationship...bbs tend to take away from that.)**

**Soooo tell me what you want to see next: Charlie as a toddler? In elementary school? As a grouchy, House-like teenager? Any particular plotline with Rachel you want to see? I'm willing to entertain anything. . . although I have a few other story ideas I might want to get to first. Anyway, leave me your suggestions in the comments, or via DM. And as always thanks for reading and commenting. I can say with 100 percent certainty I would have stopped writing these suckers months ago were it not for your support.**

"What are you doing?" Cuddy murmured.

It was past midnight. House was hovering over Charlie's bassinet, which they had temporarily placed in the master bedroom.

"Just watching him sleep," House whispered. "I'm allowed to watch my son sleep, aren't I?"

"House, he's breathing."

"I didn't say I was checking to see if he was breathing. I said I was watching him sleep."

"I'd also like to be asleep," she said, patting the bed next to her. "Sleep is a rare and precious commodity right now. We need to savor it—while we can."

House took one last look at Charlie—he was curled up into a little ball, with his tiny butt sticking up in the air and his hands tucked under his head—and climbed back into bed.

"He is. . .Breathing, that is," House said. "In case you were wondering."

"I was. Thank you."

She gave House a kiss, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

#####

The next morning, they were all sitting around the breakfast table—Rachel was dunking bite-sized pieces of French toast into syrup, House was drinking coffee, and Cuddy was breastfeeding Charlie.

"You can only have temporary custody of those, pal," House said to Charlie. "They're mine."

Cuddy laughed.

"We need to plan Charlie's bris," she said.

House had just taken a swig of coffee. He gave a near spit-take.

"I'm sorry. His what?"

"His bris—it's a Jewish circumcision ritual."

"I know what a bris is," House said.

"I know you know," Cuddy said.

"Surely you realize that no son of mine is going to have a bris."

"Why House?" She lowered her voice, not that Rachel was paying attention—she was singing the Elmo theme song to Dolly. "_You're_ circumcised."

"And it was the single most traumatic day of my life."

Cuddy snorted.

"House, you were, like 2 days old when it happened."

"And yet I still have nightmares about it."

"Cut it out, House."

"That's what I'm trying to avoid," he said.

Cuddy shot him a look.

"We both know there's absolutely no medical reason for my son to be mutilated like that," House said.

"There are conflicting studies."

"I like his penis just fine as it is," House said.

"What's a penis?" Rachel said.

So she _had_ been paying attention.

"Male sex organ," House answered, before Cuddy could intervene.

"Sweetie, are you done with your French toast?" Cuddy said quickly. Without waiting for an answer, she unclasped Charlie from her breast—he was wearing a blue-and-white-striped terrycloth onesie—and handed him to House, who put the little guy over his shoulder and began burping him. Then she began clearing Rachel's plate and emptying what was left into the garbage disposal.

"I guess you're done," House said to Rachel.

Rachel gave him a "what are gonna do?" type smile.

"Kiddo, can you go play in your room for a while?" Cuddy said. "House and I need to have a grown-up discussion."

"Uh oh," House said. "I'm in trouble."

"Can Charlie come with me?" Rachel asked.

"Soon baby. Not yet. He's still too little."

Rachel gave a dramatic sigh and climbed out of her chair. But before she headed to her room, she looked at House quizzically.

"Why are you hitting his back?" she asked.

"I'm burping him," House said. "After babies eat, they need to be burped, to get the air out of their GI tracts."

"Oh," Rachel said sagely, even though she had no clue what he was talking about.

"You wanna try?" House said. He lowered baby Charlie so Rachel could reach him. "Pat his back. Gently, but not too gently."

Rachel patted on her baby brother's back. Eventually, he let out a tiny little burp.

Rachel giggled

"I heard it!" she said. "It was cute!"

"Excellent work," House said. "You can be our DB—our Designated Burper."

Rachel smiled proudly.

"Rach. . . " Cuddy said.

"Okay," Rachel said. And she trudged into her room.

"A bris would mean a lot to my family," Cuddy continued.

"You're family isn't religious," House said.

"These sorts of ceremonies are meaningful," Cuddy said.

"You know the old expression about how there are no atheists in a fox hole?" House said. "With the Cuddy women, there are no atheists around newborns."

"I _well _remember your objection to Rachel's simchat bat," Cuddy said.

"As hypocritical today as it was then."

"And yet you missed a milestone in her life," Cuddy said. "That's gotta hurt a little."

House looked down at the table. Actually, missing Rachel's simchat bat was one of the biggest regrets of his life—for several reasons.

"I'll have plenty of time to make it up to her," he said, defensively. "I promise to be there when she's Umbrella Number One in the Princeton Kindergarten production of Mary Poppins."

"House, remember on our honeymoon when you said that our relationship was going to be three for me and one for you?"

"Yes," he said, knowing where this was going.

"This is one of the three for me. He's going to be circumcised anyway—

"I never . . ."

"He's going to be circumcised anyway. We may as well do it at home with friends and family and a nice breakfast buffet."

House frowned.

"Fine," he said.

"Besides, the yarmulke will cover your bald spot," she said.

"Nice, Cuddy."

######

Six days later there was, indeed, a spread of bagels, cream cheese and lox in the living room. Wilson was there, along with House's team. The rest of the guests were mostly Cuddy's friends and family—youngish urban parents, elderly Jewish couples who dressed up for the occasion, a few children, who raced through the house, between the legs of the grownups, much to Rachel's delight.

The mohel was there, too, with his ominous bag of equipment.

House looked at it, felt his mouth go dry.

"I'm so glad you've finally come to embrace the significance of religious ritual," Arlene said to House.

"Actually I. . ."

Cuddy swooped in and put her arm around him.

"House insisted on this bris," she said, squeezing him a bit.

House looked at her. Looked at Arlene.

"I couldn't imagine cutting off the tip of my son's penis in the company of anyone else," he said.

Arlene smiled fakely at him.

Moments later, House bumped into Taub, who was also wearing a yarmulke.

"Dr _Ch_ouse, I presume," Taub cracked, pronouncing the "ch" as you would in "Chanukah."

"Have you been practicing that all day?" House said.

"Maybe," Taub said. He shrugged and walked away.

Wilson was now standing next to House. He handed him a mimosa.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

"Just dandy," House said, taking the drink. "Nothing like a primitive barbaric ritual to celebrate the joy of a new birth."

"Be strong, my gentile friend," Wilson said.

The mohel had made his way to the front of the room and was shushing the crowd. He began to explain the procedure.

"The baby will be numbed and feel virtually no pain," he said.

"Yeah, right," House muttered under his breath.

Cuddy brought Charlie up to the mohel, who began chanting in Hebrew.

Then he lay Charlie on a big velvet blanket, applied the topical anesthetic and took out his shiny metal clamps.

House took a very deep breath, braced himself for impact.

The mohel began to peel away at the foreskin.

Charlie started crying instantly.

And then there was a loud thud and the room went black.

#####

Three hours later, the crowd had all dispersed and it was just Rachel, House, and Cuddy. Charlie, perhaps still slightly drunk from the thimbleful of wine the mohel had given him after the bris, was sound asleep in his bassinet.

"I'm never going to live this down," House said, putting his head in his hands.

"True," Cuddy said.

"I obviously can't go back to work. You're going to have to support me. I'll become one of those house husbands. I'll wear an apron."

She walked up to him.

"I think it's cute," she said. "World famous diagnostician passes out at the sight of his son's circumcision."

"You're not helping," he said.

She lifted his chin, kissed him on the mouth.

"I love that you're so sensitive to our son's pain," she said.

"You make me sound like an enormous wuss," he groaned.

"Well, if the vasovagel episode fits. . ."

From the floor where she was coloring, Rachel suddenly toppled over, her feet straight up in the air.

"Look at me, mama! I'm House!"

And she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"I'm being mocked by a four-year-old," House said. "Kill me now."

#####

House's first full day back at work was as agonizing as expected, only exacerbated by the fact that Cuddy still had six more weeks left on her maternity leave.

His team was waiting for him the differential room. Chase was drinking a Big Gulp with a straw. Taub, Thirteen, and Foreman were peering at a scan.

"Morning House," they all said, cheerfully.

He sat down slowly, eyed them suspiciously.

They eyed him back, neutrally.

Somebody handed the scan to him.

House glanced at it, glanced back at his team, kept waiting.

It was a standoff. He sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up if they didn't.

Finally, reluctantly, he said, "How's the patient?"

"There's some _faint _signs of weakness. . ." Foreman said.

Here we go.

"This case is a real woozy," Taub said, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "I mean, doozy."

"Wanna _snip_ of my drink?" Chase said, sliding his Big Gulp toward House. "Wait, did I just say snip?"

"Is that a Dr. Pecker?" Thirteen asked.

House gave them a sarcastic round of applause.

"Bravo," he said. "Are we done here yet? Because I will go all Judas Maccabeus on your asses if this continues."

They all laughed.

"Oh House. Your fainting at your son's bris might be the single most adorable thing you've ever done," Thirteen teased.

"You're all fired."

#####

That afternoon, he called home.

"How's Charlie?" he asked.

"He's currently asleep on my boob," Cuddy whispered.

"Ahhhh, good times," House said.

"And how was your team? Relentlessly mocking as expected?"

"Brutal," House said. "I'm going to have work twice as hard to remind them what an asshole I am."

"I have faith," Cuddy said.

There was a small pause .

"I miss you guys," House whined.

"Us guys miss you, too," Cuddy said.

"Can you come for a visit today?"

"House, it's your first day back. I think you can make it one whole day without us."

"Negative," House said. "I'm coming home for lunch."

#####

A week later, Cuddy decided to give House the night off. She was bringing Charlie and Rachel over to her mother's for dinner. He'd been such a trooper, with the pregnancy, the birth—actually, with everything—she felt he was deserving of a get-out-of-dinner-with-Arlene-free card.

"Go have a bro's night out with Wilson," she said. "Or whatever you want to do."

"Really?" he asked.

"Really. You deserve it."

"Bless you."

Turns out, Wilson had plans that night, so House went to Sullivan's, a bar he used to frequent a lot on his own.

It had been so long since he had been just a guy on a barstool, drinking alone, he positively relished the opportunity.

He sat at his favorite stool, ordered a Dewar's on the rocks.

"Haven't seen you here in a while," the bartender said, pouring the drink.

"Yeah, my wife and I just had a baby," House explained.

"Really? Congrats! Boy or girl?"

"Boy," House said. "Charlie."

Without thinking, he pulled out his iPhone, began scrolling through some pictures.

"Awww, he's cute," the bartender said, peering at the photos. "Is that your wife?"

House nodded.

"She's hot," the bartender said approvingly.

"You have no idea," House said, smiling.

"And is that your little girl?" the bartender asked, when he saw a picture of Rachel holding Charlie.

"Yeah."

"You have a beautiful family."

"I know," House said. "Thanks." 

#####


End file.
